


these shots taste like i'll be texting you later

by daredoll



Series: what do you call someone who likes your pictures on instagram late at night ? [2]
Category: Descendants (Disney Movies)
Genre: F/M, drinking tw, hungover breakfasts ensue, please do not do this at home, shots are ordered, snaps are sent, so uh this ended with an unexpected trip to the sin tin so, the vks have to deal with a lot but honestly they take turns being the wild one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-03-14 09:20:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13587066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daredoll/pseuds/daredoll
Summary: the fun thing about college is that even the people who seem like they have their life together, most definitely don't. evie's a mess. harry's trying not to fuck this ( whatever this is ) up. everyone else is a bystander to the trainwreck, but not necessarily a bystander to everything.





	1. more drinking .

 

> “Evil, who do you have to screw to get a drink around here?” The bar is, of course, understandably packed; the Saturday of Halloweekend _would_ warrant everyone going out. Still, it’s been five minutes of her waiting at the bar with no service, and she was a regular for evil’s sake! Plus, come on, this angel costume had taken her a whole week to get together, so clearly she looked _**sinfully** _ good. That, alone, should have been enough to get her three drinks free in this short space of time. Complaint uttered, she shifts her gaze from the selection of alcohol behind the bar (probably just there to tempt her ) to catch a glimpse of Jay’s bun in the crowd, surrounded by equally familiar heads of white, brown, and violet tresses.
> 
> “Ah, that’d be me, princess.” Immediately her neck snaps back, and there before her stands Harry Hook in his full pirate regalia. _Amazing_. Cockiness practically rolls off him, and there’s such self-satisfaction at his smart reply in his grin that it’s practically palpable.
> 
> “Very cute,” she replies, a delicate roll of her eyes punctuating the statement. If he thought she was going to give him the _added_ satisfaction of looking surprised and asking something about what he was doing at her favorite haunt rather than _The Barrel_ , well life was hard, wasn’t it? Instead, she simply starts her order with a sultry smile. “Three orgasms—”
> 
> “That’s a tall order, but if ye insist,” Oh my evil, she was going to kill him. Or kiss him. It really wasn’t fair that his lips looked so inviting with a smirk spread on them.
> 
> “And a cock tease.” Just ignore him. Keep going. She was not making a repeat of ‘the shirt incident’ tonight. That had been nothing but a one time moment of weakness.
> 
> “Now, I thought that was what we’d call the dress ye’re wearing,” he comments again, and, ok, it’s the compliment to her costume that earns him a real  smile. Nothing else.

“Evie, you were not that fucked up when we left you,” Jay says, somehow managing to sound both annoyed and actively concerned at the same time. A part of her is trying to pay attention, but the other, larger part, is focused solely on attacking her blueberry cheesecake Belgian waffle. Her head hurts, she feels half-dead, but nothing could keep her from the carbs in front of her. Her breakfast is going to soak up all the alcohol in her stomach, and she is going to be _Fine_.

“You had had two shots at most,” Ben agrees, picking gingerly at his French toast. Mal, Carlos, and Jay, too, don’t touch their food, which is probably a miracle because Mal’s strawberry shortcake pancakes look fantastic and Evie doesn’t even like strawberries that much. Finally she’s starting to catch on to the overall vibe.

She’d be touched by the guilt seasoning their meal if it didn’t in turn make her feel bad. Even the children of the most notorious villains of the land are susceptible to alcohol, and they had always watched each other’s backs while drinking, never letting anyone walk home alone or allowing a glass to be left unattended. They must have felt that they’d let her down. Quickly she swallows what was overall too big of a bite and begins to explain.

“Listen, I was with Audrey.” She’s immediately interrupted.

“You don’t even like Audrey!” Carlos blurts. She ignores him.

“---and we found an unopened bottle of really expensive vodka in Chad’s townhouse. Literally, what was I supposed to do?” Even without being Isle Kids, everyone knew that finding alcohol at a party made it free, and that you had to take full and total advantage of it. It was like the first rule of Uni.

“Not drink it?” Mal rolls her eyes, but she does finally cut into her delicacy, the knowledge that their friend hadn’t been out alone serving to bring back the appetites of everyone at the table.

“I was with Audrey! We had to split it to stand each other.” To that Mal does nod her understanding.

“Evie!” If Ben weren’t so sweet (and didn’t always comment something nice on every single one of her Instagram posts) she’d absolutely fling some of her whipped cream at him. It wasn’t like Evie hated the princess, it was more that she’d never wholly forgiven her for reminding her that _technically_ she wasn’t royalty in Auradon. Rather than launching the bite, she slips her fork into her mouth and savors the richness of it.

“Don’t start with me. Each of you has done something equally bad at some point.”

“...ok.” Mal agrees after taking a bite equally as huge as Evie’s had been.

“...fair.” Jay mumbles through an entire sausage link crammed into his mouth.

“...I would argue, but you have all the receipts so what’s even the point?” Carlos mutters as he inhales his stack of chocolate chip pancakes.

Before Ben can start, Evie fixes him with a pointed look.

“ _By the way I have a new girlfriend_ ,” she teases with a smile, and Ben groans in frustration. The entire table erupts into laughter. Jay nearly chokes on his breakfast, and the laughter only gets louder. Finally as it dies down, Ben, very poorly, attempts to look hurt, although his golden boy grin just can’t help but shine through it.

“When are we going to let that go?” the king whines but is only answered by a chorus of “never!”s. Mal, of course, is loudest of all even as she rests her head on his shoulder fondly.

“But anyway, that’s where it gets a little fuzzy. I definitely tried to sleep in a parking lot and absolutely refused to get up. I think Audrey tried to drag me by my hair at one point, but, well, we all know what happens when I just want to sleep.” Evie manages to look vaguely contrite, but no one buys it for a minute.

“You’re a **nightmare**.” Jay’s right; she is. Usually a sociable drunk who just really wants to dance, there comes a time when extremely intoxicated that the fairest in the land decides she wants to pull a Sleeping Beauty, and there is nothing, _NOTHING_ , that will change her mind. She’s laid down under tables and on sidewalks before, and, as the strongest of their gang, it’s usually left to Jay to have to bodily heft her over his shoulder and carry her home. He does it with frustration, a complete refusal to let her forget it for at least a week after, and a lot of love.

“I think maybe that’s when the Tide rolled up? Because I do distinctly remember Audrey telling them I was their problem now. And watching her go puke in some bushes. And hearing her yelling at Chad to let her back in, and we know Chad so obviously he did.”

 

The rest of their breakfast passes without any other big incidents. ( Lonnie and her brother do walk through the doors of the Waffle Hut as they’re about to leave. The two both look like equal combinations of powerful and perky, and they make the look _work_ , too. Jay calls something to them about ‘you don’t need swords at the Waffle Hut!’, and Lonnie laughs before hitching her U of A  R.O.A.R. gear higher over shoulder.) Sadly, the waffle does not soak up all the alcohol in her stomach, and by the time they get home it’s settled quite heavily in the pit of her stomach. It’s equally uncomfortable as the piercing headache wracking her brain, and Evie burrows herself back under the throws on the couch as soon as possible. Jay, not nearly as good of a friend as she thought he was, does not comply to her request to put her out of her misery.

After about an hour long ~~coma~~   _nap_ , she snaps awake. Her headache has lessened, but she’s too busy scrambling to find her phone beneath the cushions to appreciate it. Ten percent battery left, thank evil. Snapchat, the most dangerous of social media when not sober, gets checked first, and _SHIT_.

Nimble fingers tap to the Facebook messenger group chat ( the one that Ben’s allowed in. one day he’ll be added to the official secret vk group chat but not today. ), and rapidly compose a message.

Princess: UMMM what did i snap you guys last night

Princess: i know you screenshotted it

Carl: lmao

Carl shared an image.

 

[evie’s wide eyes (framed by only the longest faux lashes, of course) and forehead are visible and a boy’s face is pressed beside it, a familiar cocky smirk and just the kohl-rimmed lower lash line of someone’s eyes discernible along the top of the snap. There’s a sparkly filter stamped on top, and it’s captioned “oh fuck harry hook is really hot”]

 

Joy: thanks you just killed my buzz again

Joy: also thanks for putting me in a group snap with the only person i hate more than chad


	2. less thinking .

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> welcome to the sin tin, y'all.

 

> She’s a fucking nightmare, and he’s fucking weak. It’s the shots, he tells himself, but even then he isn’t drunk. He’s tipsy, at most, his father’s lifestyle sinking into him ( Pirates could hold their liquor, couldn’t they? ), but certainly not legless. It’s greed, or something similar and carnal, maybe, that has him opening each snap she sends. Something in seeing that cherry red sucker caught by white teeth, on a pink tongue, between full puckered lips. Something in her offers of ‘want a taste. have to find me first.’. Something in her piss poor directions and crinkled eyes with each snap received from him. He’s been to five separate townhomes already, dragged Uma and Gil behind him for backup ( Moral support? Or had they simply tagged along to see how far he had fallen? ) all in search of a sapphire princess masquerading as some sort of angel. ( Part of him wishes she was. Another hopes she isn’t. )
> 
> And then, finally FINALLY he catches up to her and--- what the fuck. A _pastel pink_ princess is shoving past him, complaining bitterly on how some girls couldn’t ‘hang’ and now the trio is caught staring at some sort of hot mess sleeping beauty.  Sprawled out on the asphalt, halfway underneath a Rolls Royce is U of A’s resident fashionista herself. Is she? She really is sleeping. Sleeping among the gravel and muck. Evil what has he gotten himself into.
> 
> Getting her up is--- it’s an ordeal, but to leave a girl unattended in such a state is too low even for pirates. Gil has the best luck, but, well, when doesn’t he? Standing and stumbling, giggling too eagerly to breathe properly, even, Harry has the chance to take over, rolling sea glass eyes at her immediate need to capture the moment. The picture she snaps is arguably awful, but there is a swell of pride with what she captions it. Once sent, her arms are a vice around his middle, somehow the lass has curled beneath his coat and close to his chest as they amble to her brownstone ( Apparently fashion pays better than bartending. Who would have guessed? ) She manages to keep upright, too, Uma’s suggestion to lose the heels only being met with a strawberry blown against the back of her hand. To the door and through it, a key procured from under the mat. It’s pitch black and Gil nearly trips over the rug but through some stroke of minuscule luck Harry can maneuver Evie to a couch as his friends are off to explore.
> 
> "Are you going to kiss me?" Just twenty minutes ago she had been sleeping in a parking lot like some sort of gremlin, but right now, nestled in a multitude of pillows in various shades of blue and with a knit blanket tugged up to her chin, she still manages to look utterly unattainable. Brown eyes sparkle golden in the low light and her smudged lipstick is incredibly tempting, but the pirate restrains himself with a cocky grin.
> 
> "Unfortunately, princess, I don’nae kiss girls who won't remember it in the morning." She giggles at him, tipping her head and wrinkling her nose. What the fuck, she's cute.
> 
> "But you still want to kiss me." What an imp. She doesn't even try to frame it like a question.
> 
> "Aye, I always want tae kiss ye, Evie." He can't help but tuck a stray curl behind her ear, and she does smile back up at him softly, lids growing heavier with sleep by the second before they drift shut.
> 
> Evil, he's pathetic, and Gil sidles up behind him to agree with his silent revelation.
> 
> "Ah always woont tae kiss ye," Gil mocks in his atrocious Scottish accent and Harry glares at him. He misses his hook, and has to settle for elbowing him to get his point across.
> 
> "Shut it."

 

She’s never been one to be exactly modest with her hemlines, but tonight’s ensemble is especially something. The kelly green brings out the olive of her skin tone, and she has to admit that even the poms on her slippers makes up for the lack of heel. It isn’t often that she gets to combine saccharine with sinful, but a glance at her reflection in the plate glass of _The Barrel_ ’s front reveals that she has certainly accomplished it. Prussian locks smoothed into a top knot. Peridot slip cut daring and jagged against the hem, barely meeting the tops of her thighs. Legs endless as they slip into flats of the same color, and of course a jaunty set of gossamer wings. It may sound wicked, but Peter Pan’s little sidekick could eat her pixie heart out.

And with that, she’s strutting through the door, looking decidedly less like the drunken horror she’d been the last time she’d called upon a certain raven-haired lad. This is something like redemption and weakness, the embarrassing realization that she thinks of him late at night far too often forcing her to remind him that last night was a fluke. She’s usually like this, sure and sexy and seductive. Sleeping on the pavement ? Soft and affectionate ? Not her. Didn’t know her. A cocky smile pokes at blush pink lips ( anything innocent in them belied by the fire in her eyes ) as she gets closer and closer to the bar, other patrons striding in and out of her vision, just blocking the view of a bartender from her sights.

She meanders delicately through the throng, settles herself just within the bar’s, and his, line of sight, standing at a high top table. It only takes a minute for someone, not who she’s hunting, to sidle up and offer an appletini ( Really ? Was it such a stretch to imagine she liked flavors other than apple and blueberry ? ). She takes it, of course, free drinks were free drinks, but as she downs it in one long sip, tawny eyes slip up, immediately caught in the ocean’s depths. He holds her gaze as she lowers the glass, and it’s not simply reaction that has her tongue running along her lower lip.

For a moment it’s just the two of them, gazes locked across the room and heat clear in them. And then Harry is stepping through the swinging doors and he’s coming towards her and he’s certainly more plunderer than prince. In fact, the warmth she’d felt in his look is practically sparking at this point, as dangerous as it is enthralling, and it takes no time for the man who’d brought her a drink to shuffle off.  It’s a good thing, too, because there’s too many things in the silence between them when he reaches her for Evie herself to even catch them all. She’s too busy holding her breath as the sea washes over her figure, gaze so intense she’s ready to be swept away into the deep.

“I hate that fuckin’ fairy,” voice a growl and step sure as he insinuates himself closer and closer, backing her into the wall to where there’s no escape. ( She wouldn’t want one anyway. )

A hum is offered, white teeth coming to tease at a full bottom lip. Hues flicker from lips to sea to lips again. “And I’m hoping you’ll show me how much.”

There’s a deadly smirk on his lips and maybe she’s gotten herself in too deep with how quickly her skin burns being so close. His mouth catches hers like a wildfire lights a forest, slowly but then suddenly unquenchable. It isn’t soft and sweet like the fairytales ( nothing between them ever is ). His mouth is harsh against hers, wanting and taking, and she responds just the same. The wire of her wings digs into her back as he presses himself closer, one of his hands not so much cradling her jaw as clutching it, but she wouldn’t push him away for anything. Fingers grip at the collar of his shirt, keeping him close, pulling him closer until there’s no room between them. His grip is possessive as it skims down her side, teasing in a way that reminds her of nights she’s imagined his hands exploring every inch of her. Her neck, her cheeks, burn, as his fingers toy with the edge of the slip, raking against the naked skin and sending a shiver up her spine as his palm settles beneath the fabric. His lips pull away, leaving her embarrassingly aware of how easily she can feel her heart beating in her chest. Steadying breath just taken, his breath tickles the shell of her ear.

“I think I might hate ye more than the fairy at this point,” he murmurs, a low rumble of laughter echoing in what little space is left between them. Only then does she open her eyes, lips drawing temptingly slowly into a self-satisfied grin.

“And yet you can’t seem to keep your hands off me.” she teases, voice a ragged whisper hinting at far too many things. His grip tightens, thumb grazing dangerously close to her inner thigh, and her breath hitches accordingly, suddenly very aware of the more than a few fellow patrons pressed close to what is quickly becoming more tryst than chaste kiss.

“Aye, that I can’t.” His reply is too simple, his hands too warm against her skin, his eyes too clear in the low light, and she really should restrain herself. ( She finds she doesn’t want to. )

“We need some privacy, then.” And a sly smirk is too quick upon his lips as his fingers ease from her slip, offered to her with all the manners they said his father had once employed. She takes his hand with a roll of ochre eyes, allows herself to be whisked away none too gently behind the bar and to the door that led up to the apartment the Tide infamously shared. But there is no rapid ascent, and air is knocked out of her lungs as he tugs her back, presses her back against the door once they’re through it. The din of the crowd outside is only barely muffled, and she can just barely see in the dimly lit stairwell. His body is pressed to hers again, his mouth urgent against hers as he steals another kiss before pulling away tantalizingly slowly.

“Ye remember the last message ye sent me?” he rasps, rough lips hovering to breathe in her ear and sending a shiver up her spine. A slow swallow is all the answer she gives him. “Ye said ‘when you’re alone do you think of me?’” His ringed fingers knot themselves in the hair at the nape of her neck, tugging back sharply and his mouth stifling the gasp he draws from her. He draws away, eyes serious and smirk tempting. “ **_I do_ **.”

“Of course, you---” smart reply forgotten as he moves to trail his lips down her exposed neck.

“I think about ye just like this, breathless and needy,” he continues, pride in his voice. He hums against her skin, before sucking at a pulse point, forcing another sigh from her lips as ochre eyes slip shut. “How ye taste. How ye sound. How much I’m going tae make ye want me.”

And this time his hand is even more purposeful as it slides from her jaw, down the swell of her breast, along the curve of her waist and past her hip, again drawn to the hem of her costume. He doesn’t play this time, no fumbling with the fabric. His fingers coast along her skin, her breath caught in her throat, before they trace against her inner thigh, inching higher and higher.

“Harry,” she breathes, half warning and half wanting and entirely too soft. He chuckles, nipping at her skin.

“I ken that ye think of me, too, princess.” Azure crown knocks against the door behind her as his hand finds her, cupping her heat through the lace, touch too gentle for what she needs. “Tell me, Evie.”

“You,” she can’t help but admit, cheeks dusting with a rosy hue as her skin grows hot. His fingers tease along her lips through the fabric, reward and torture in one moment. “I think of you, of this.” Her voice is little more than a whisper, practically begging as she melts into his touch. “I want you, _always_ .”

“What do ye want me tae do,” he purrs into her ear, too much charm to be the son of a pirate, but certainly the way his lips mark her neck could only be called the work of a scoundrel. Finally his hand brushes silk and lace to the side, traces against the skin and draws a shudder from her.

“Make me yours.” One finger slips into her, quickly followed by a second as he establishes a rapid rhythm, each sharp intake of breath past her lips urging him on. Breathing ragged and mind filled with nothing but him, he catches her lips with his, passion and lust in each lingering kiss. A gasp of pleasure is lost in his mouth as his thumb coasts over her clit, his own lips pulling into a smirk. Heat pools low in her core, building and building as she bucks into his hand. His thumb presses firmer, each stroke of his fingers hitting deep and her nails dig into his shoulder as he brings her close. His lips return to her neck, wet kisses stopping at the crook, and his name is a shallow croon, mouthed more than said as her back arches, each and every syllable an entreaty.

Her skin feels aflame, each nerve over-sensitive and when he bites, hard, against her skin, a shuddering whimper keens from smudged lips, her muscles tensing and releasing, heat flooding her body as she clenches around his fingers. He presses a last lingering kiss to the tender skin, holding her steady as her head falls to his shoulder with hushed gasps. A final shiver wracks her body before dark eyes flutter open, scarlet lips pressing a tender kiss to collarbone before she raises dark eyes to catch  his gaze.

“My bonnie lass,” he says with lidded eyes, teeth teasing at his lower lip as he takes in the mess he’s made of her. There’s something smug in his expression, but his kiss is uncommonly tender as their lips meet again.

( Three orgasms and a cocktease ? _What did one have to do to get a drink around her_ ? )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen, i did not plan for this to end up just being ...........self-indulgent af but it is 11 o'clock at night and i need to sleep. really hope you like it ? comment / kudos appreciated as always !

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING : do not be evie ok. do not drink alcohol you find in someone's apartment. do not expect a beautiful pirate boy and his friends to take care of you. drink responsibly or at least always have someone responsible who has your back with you while you drink !!!
> 
> but anyway ?? i need to stop being so damn sporadic with what i post/update but ??? i can't help it ?? love ya'll and hope you enjoy our disaster children and the vks being protective and judgmental.
> 
> also carlos and jay's messenger names are a reference to a hc I share with findmyownliberation that on the auradon prep school website Coach accidentally typed Jay's name as Joy and Carlos as Carl and that the vks are NEVER going to let them forget that.


End file.
